


Mishear My Sadistic Glee, Please Hear My Silent Pleas

by TheMistyCatMaster (TheMistyDarkPrincess)



Series: The ROOT of Orochimaru's Hurt AU [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: A What-If Character Study, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Graphic Description, Kind of a fix-it, Possible Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 01:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15108761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMistyDarkPrincess/pseuds/TheMistyCatMaster
Summary: What if the reason that Orochimaru turned out the way he did was because ROOT experimented on him, causing him a trauma so deep it affected him to the point of ruining his relationships and leaving Konoha?  What if what he has done due to this trauma still haunts him?(Set after the attack on Konoha during the Chuunin Exams but before he battles with Tsunade, Jiraya, and Naruto.)





	Mishear My Sadistic Glee, Please Hear My Silent Pleas

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm part of the fantastic Discord: the Genjutsu Support Group where we, ~~bitch, complain, are salty as hell~~ , talk about what could have been done better in the canon of Naruto. One of our lovely members (Lulu that be you) was responding to an idea I was thinking about with the food for thought about Orocimaru and ROOT and then this fic came to life from the dark corners of mind sleep deprived mind.

He was sure he was screaming.  There was a soreness in his throat that proclaimed that was probably the case.  But the shine of different instruments of science and healing (though in this case pain) continued to dance around him, move over him, caress him in manners that had his body screeching.  There were voices, all saying muffled words, around him. Comments flying over him as though he wasn’t aware of what was being done. He tried to cry out. He tried to say something beyond making the sounds of agony that his throat produced.  It was no use. The blades kept up their dance. Things were being jabbed into his skin, organs, muscles. He felt bile rising up his esophagus as something poked at his exposed stomach. Was this how he was going to die? Was this what he got for trying to better himself and make himself more useful to the village?  His vision started to darken around the corners of his eyes. No… He didn’t want to die… He wanted to live! He had to live on for his parents… To see Konoha become something greater… To….

~*~

Bile ripped itself from his throat as he sat up and turned himself just fast enough for it to end up on the floor instead of on himself or the bed he was bound to by mental terror.  His breathing was erratic, causing his whole body to shake. The uselessness of his arms, limp and slowly rotting at his sides, reminding him of the pain brought about by unseen scars caused by dancing lights and sharp edges.  The burning in his throat adding to long forgotten sensations that now seemed to be waltzing over his being brought about by the mental movie his memories had conjured from the depths of his darkened mind.

“Why?”

His voice was raspy as he breathed out the word, still shaking though his breathing was growing calmer, the word echoing in his sleeping chamber as though it was a askance for mercy.

“Why?”

Stronger now, demanding.  But air can’t answer questions.  It can merely exist and allow for those who live to do so while carrying words so they can bounce back to their owners off stone walls.  How the man wanted to cover his ears so his question couldn’t return to him. How he wished his brain had kept the dark memories hidden behind their steel doors and broken lamps.  Kept them in the place they belonged so they didn’t bog down his mind with their existence. He closes his eyes, righting himself as best he could with only upper body strength to be his rising anchor.  He shudders with the exertion the action puts his body through, cringing as he starts the motion of slithering his body back down under the now rumpled and distance covers. He was going to have to use his teeth to pull them back to a comfortable level.

* * *

She’s crying.  She’s begging him, pleading to know the reason why he has done what he has.  But what can he tell her? What can he say to her to make her understand that he too was in pain?  That he needed to see… Need to know…. It wasn’t taking to her. A part of him was glad, another disappointed.  If it had taken, he would be able to take her with him without remorse. But it hadn’t… It hadn’t and he was hoping that the girl would soon come to hate him.  Please let this girl be safe from harm because of her hatred. And this whole situation… It could have been different had they not… Had ROOT not… He had dedicated his life to knowledge and his village and they….  He had to leave. He had to leave the village. But how did he make it so that his Sensei would…? He could….

~*~

He awakens on the floor, sweat on his brow, breathing heavy.  Not again. Why were these memories pouring back now? Why was it now that they disturbed his sleep and caused him to relive those painful, haunting moments?  Was it because of the attack? Was it because he had watched his Sensei, the man who practically raised him after his parents died, die before him? Was it because he was the cause of the man’s last breath?  That the man could not rest in peace, soul forever trapped within the bowels of a death god, a shinigami? His form shivers, as his mind’s eye flashes the image of the thing that had taken the use of his arms from him.  His memory pointing out every detail of the blade in the shinigami’s mouth and the spirit flames around it. The image is terrifying… And is that… Liquid…? Is that from his eyes? Is he crying? No… No he can’t be crying!  Stop it you traitorous orbs!

"Stop it…."

* * *

He can hear boastful laughter.  He can feel playful slaps on his back.  He can hear a female voice scolding. Can hear the same voice praising something he did.  He can hear more laughter, pride filled this time. Hear the word prodigy. There is a Lightness.  Acceptance? But then there is blood. There is screaming, crying, the sounds of death and loss. War is hell.  War is hell on Earth. The sound of metal on metal. A decree of a title. He doesn’t want a title… But he guesses it's alright if it is shared with those who he grew up and trained with….  But it _isn’t_ alright.  It’s pressure.  It’s the catalyst.  Pain. Pain! Blades.  Fear. Agony. Make it stop.  Sensei… Make it stop! Sensei…  Find me…? No one finds him. No one comes.  The blades dance on.

~*~

He’s twisted in his sheets.  Trapped and unable to move. Moving tightens the fabrics hold.  It brings his heart rate up. It makes him breathe as though he is underwater.  Too tight. It’s holding too tight! There’s a ripping sound. There’s the feel of something smooth, solid…  Scale-like on his tongue. The snake that held Kusunagi was what had caused the ripping… He had tried to summon the sword to break free?  With what arms would he have been able to wield it? Was this some strange reflex? Was he finally going truly mad? Was his mind that clouded with fear…?  Was… Could… Could he truly...

"Still be human after all...?"

* * *

“Hello Tsunade.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.~
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